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with a thick veil on； she's about the best appearin' woman in
Edgewood。。。。 I never see anybody stiffen up as Anthony has。
He had me make him three white shirts and three gingham ones；
with collars and cuffs on all of 'em。 It seems as if six
shirts at one time must mean something out o' the common！〃
Aunt Hitty was right； it did mean something out of the common。
It meant the growth of an all…engrossing； grateful；
divinely tender passion between two love…starved souls。
On the one hand； Lyddy； who though she had scarcely known
the meaning of love in all her dreary life； yet was as full
to the brim of all sweet； womanly possibilities of loving
and giving as any pretty woman； on the other； the blind
violin…maker； who had never loved any woman but his mother；
and who was in the direst need of womanly sympathy and affection。
Anthony Croft； being ministered unto by Lyddy's kind hands；
hearing her sweet voice and her soft footstep； saw her as God sees；
knowing the best； forgiving the worst； like God； and forgetting it；
still more like God； I think。
And Lyddy？ There is no pen worthy to write of Lyddy。
Her joy lay deep in her heart like a jewel at the bottom of a clear pool；
so deep that no ripple or ruffle on the surface could disturb
the hidden treasure。 If God had smitten these two with one hand；
he had held out the other in tender benediction。
There had been a pitiful scene of unspeakable solemnity
when Anthony first told Lyddy that he loved her； and asked her
to be his wife。 He had heard all her sad history by this time；
though not from her own lips； and his heart went out to her
all the more for the heavy cross that had been laid upon her。
He had the wit and wisdom to put her affliction quite out
of the question； and allude only to her sacrifice in marrying
a blind man； hopelessly and helplessly dependent on her sweet
offices for the rest of his life； if she； in her womanly mercy；
would love him and help him bear his burdens。
When his tender words fell upon Lyddy's dazed brain
she sank beside his chair； and； clasping his knees； sobbed：
〃I love you； I cannot help loving you； I cannot help
telling you I love you！ But you must hear the truth；
you have heard it from others； but perhaps they softened it。
If I marry you； people will always blame me and pity you。
You would never ask me to be your wife if you could see my face；
you could not love me an instant if you were not blind。〃
〃Then I thank God unceasingly for my infirmity；〃 said Anthony Croft；
as he raised her to her feet。
。 。 。 。 。 。
Anthony and Lyddy Croft sat in the apple orchard；
one warm day in late spring。
Anthony's work would have puzzled a casual on…looker。 Ten stout
wires were stretched between two trees； fifteen or twenty feet apart；
and each group of five represented the lines of the musical staff。
Wooden bars crossed the wires at regular intervals； dividing the staff
into measures。 A box with many compartments sat on a stool beside him；
and this held bits of wood that looked like pegs； but were in reality whole；
half； quarter； and eighth notes； rests； flats； sharps； and the like。
These were cleft in such a way that he could fit them on the wires
almost as rapidly as his musical theme came to him； and Lyddy had learned
to transcribe with pen and ink the music she found in wood and wire；
He could write only simple airs in this way； but when he played
them on the violin they were transported into a loftier region；
such genius lay in the harmony； the arabesque； the delicate lacework
of embroidery with which the tune was inwrought； now high； now low；
now major； now minor； now sad； now gay； with the one thrilling；
haunting cadence recurring again and again； to be watched for； longed for；
and greeted with a throb of delight。
Davy was reading at the window； his curly head buried
in a well…worn Shakespeare opened at Midsummer Night's Dream。
Lyddy was sitting under her favorite pink apple…tree； a mass
of fragrant bloom； more beautiful than Aurora's morning gown。
She was sewing； lining with snowy lawn innumerable pockets in a
square basket that she held in her lap。 The pockets were small；
the needles were fine； the thread was a length of cobweb。
Everything about the basket was small except the hopes that she
was stitching into it； they were so great that her heart
could scarcely hold them。 Nature was stirring everywhere。
The seeds were springing in the warm earth。 The hens
were clucking to their downy chicks just out of the egg。
The birds were flying hither and thither in the apple boughs；
and there was one little home of straw so hung that Lyddy could
look into it and see the patient mother brooding her nestlings。
The sight of her bright eyes； alert for every sign of danger；
sent a rush of feeling through Lyddy's veins that made her long
to clasp the little feathered mother to her own breast。
A sweet gravity and consecration of thought possessed her；
and the pink blossoms falling into her basket were not more delicate
than the rose…colored dreams that flushed her soul。
Anthony put in the last wooden peg； and taking up his violin called；
〃Davy； lad； come out and tell me what this means！〃
Davy was used to this； from a wee boy he had been asked
to paint the changing landscape of each day； and to put into
words his uncle's music。
Lyddy dropped her needle； the birds stopped to listen；
and Anthony played。
〃It is this apple orchard in May time；〃 said Davy；
〃it is the song of the green things growing； isn't it？〃
〃What do you say； dear？〃 asked Anthony； turning to his wife。
Love and hope had made a poet of Lyddy。 〃I think Davy is right；〃
she said。 〃It is a dream of the future； the story of all new and
beautiful things growing out of the old。 It is full of the sweetness
of present joy； but there is promise and hope in it besides。
It is like the Spring sitting in the lap of Winter； and holding
a baby Summer in her bosom。〃
Davy did not quite understand this； though he thought it pretty；
but Lyddy's husband did； and when the boy went back to his books；
he took his wife in his arms and kissed her twice；once for herself；
and then once again。
…
THE EVENTFUL TRIP OF THE MIDNIGHT CRY。
In the little villages along the Saco River；
in the year 1850 or thereabouts； the arrival and departure
of the stage…coach was the one exciting incident of the day。
It did not run on schedule time in those days； but started
from Limington or Saco； as the case might be； at about or
somewhere near a certain hour； and arrived at the other end
of the route whenever it got there。 There were no trains to meet
（the railway popularly known as the 〃York and Yank'em〃 was not built
till 1862）； the roads were occasionally good and generally bad；
and thus it was often dusk； and sometimes late in the evening；
when the lumbering vehicle neared its final destination
a